On an overseas flight last winter, the toilets broke on the plane.
@BunsenBurner
Both pilots are never allowed to eat the same meal.
DH travels a lot internationally. He once sat next to a guy who suffered an epileptic seizure half way across the Atlantic; another time a plane had to be turned around because of a heart attack on board. And then there was the time someone DIED in first class. His body was moved to an area for flight attendants… and everyone in first class was told to stay onboard after landing until investigators determined what exactly had happened. That day, it definitely didn’t pay to fly first class. Something that gave DH a certain amount of grim satisfaction. (Nothing sparks class wars like airplane seating.)
My theory is never eat fish or chicken on a long flight.
No, he had lasagna. 
I remember when we flew to Arizona and I had to get up to use the bathroom. It was my first time using an airplane bathroom, so I was fascinated with the ambiance. While doing my business, the door begins to open and I pushed hard against it while sitting on the toilet. I’ve never felt so embarrassed. X(
Well, one vacation, I asked everyone to let me know what they wanted to see on a national park tour of the SW US. There were tons of suggestions, so we ended up staying at a different place every night. We all found that exhausting. I had us booked for a hotel halfway between the south rim of the Grand Canyon and our friend’s house in LA but the kids begged that we drive straight through and get to the friends’ place so they could just chill there instead of packing up EVERY DAY. It was very helpful for future trips in NOT overscheduling, as our family really prefers to see places in more depth rather than seeing lots of different places.
One road trip I took when I was in my early 20s and was with one of my best friends and her 5 speed manual car and a male friend of hers. I had never driven much, especially not a manual transmission and had NEVER driven and navigated at the same time. She had carefully booked different places for us to stay at all along the way, touring the SW US, mostly national parks. She drove, then she her the friend drive, then I drove. The second time the friend drove, he remarked to us that the bars cut into the road are useful for WAKING HIM UP while he was speeding along the road with both of us in the car. My friend stopped allowing him to drive. Every time I drove, both of them would sleep. I’d drive towards where we were supposed to be going and then I’d find a place to park and wake them up and say, “We’re lost. I can’t navigate and drive at the same time and have no idea where you want me to go.” I’d tell them the last road sign I saw before I parked and say I didn’t know where to go. This replayed every time I drove, which was 1/2 to 1/3 of the trip. We eventually made it to all the places she wanted us to see and back, but it was a very weird trip. A short ways into the trip, the male friend decided he didn’t need to shower or bathe either, so she stopped talking to him entirely, so the trip just got weirder.
I have yet to experience anything as bad as what you’re all describing, and I hope I never do. One of my worst fears (travel/health anxiety) is to be sick while away from home when I’m spending money for the purpose of enjoying myself.
When I was 9 years old and my brother was 12, we were vacationing with our parents in Kauai. For five days we stayed in a beach condo, which was very nice. Very close-by was a path to the beach. One day, we made our first attempt to go to said beach. Upon getting to the path, we realized that the path consisted of basically stairs carved into a muddy, rocky cliff. The ‘handrails’ got worse as we went down this steep path. By the time we were around halfway down, the ‘handrail’ consisted of a thin bungie cord on the side of the path. A few stairs before the turn in the stairs, I tripped and couldn’t stop myself as I continued towards the edge of the path. Luckily, my older brother was walking in front of me. He caught me just a couple feet away from the edge, which I easily could’ve went over with the amount of momentum I’d built up. If he hadn’t been there to slow me down and catch me, I would’ve gone over the edge and fallen some great distance into the jungle. I came away with a few scrapes and bruises, but it’s likely that my brother saved my life.
@knittergirrl, I think I’ve been to that place in Kauai, for real. It’s a nice beach once you get to the bottom, but in can be quite an experience getting down there. It’s one of the beaches in Princeville, very near the very expensive hotel.
I think we were near the same beach too! We actually were in a parking lot when a distressed man handed us his 4 year old. Both him and the child were covered in mud. The guy just basically threw this poor girl at us and said that he had to go help his wife. We were rather stunned but we stayed with this girl until he got back with his wife. She was very muddy and had a toddler on her back. That looked like a vacation from hell to me. We never really found out much because they basically to the girl back and stumbled off to their car. We did not go down that trail!
This is bizarre – all three of you know this beach trail! Small world!
In my 2nd worst air travel experience, things went awry before the plane even pushed back from the gate. (For my absolute worst ever air travel experience involving “chicken chunks”, refer to post #42)
GMTspouse and I boarded a TWA plane (yes, it was that long ago) in JFK bound for Rome. The captain made an announcement that there was a mechanical problem, and they needed to replace a part and there would be a departure delay. Well, one hour morphed into 2 hours, and then the captain made the announcement that they decided to go ahead and do the dinner service—GMTspouse looked at me in alarm and said “oh sh**, not good…”
To make a long story short, the delay at the gate turned into 7-1/2 dreadful hours!!! TWA wouldn’t let anyone off the plane, because if anyone deplaned, their checked bag would have to come off too. After 7-1/2 hours, the toilets were stinking; the cabin was mess; the food was eaten; and everyone was wretched before we took off on the long 8 hour flight to Rome.
When we landed in Rome, GMTspouse strode into the cockpit to vent to the captain about the ordeal and about the stale, dried-out “dingleberry muffins” that were the only food left for the passengers (I distinctly remember the “dingleberry” remark). The captain stifled a laugh and wrote out a note on the back of his business card and gave it to us.
At the end of the trip, we checked in for our return flight and gave the gate agent the captain’s business card. She cringed and said, “ooooohhhh, you were on THAT flight…” Then she upgraded us to First Class.
That’s the only time I’ve flown trans-Atlantic first class, and it was all due to a dingleberry muffin.
I’m going to try the dingleberry muffins comment next time I fly trans-Atlantis.
Kauai. I met a BF there over spring break while in school. We planned to backpack the Kalalau trail. It was not ideal Hawaii weather, rainy and overcast for the most part. After a few days in various parts of the island, we started the hike and lasted a night before turning back. Mud everywhere. I felt like a salamander, skin never dry the entire time. We’d slide above the cliffs, and fortunately there was a great deal of vegetation to grab to avoid going over the brink. Googling this to check spelling, I see that it is now declared one of the 10 most dangerous hikes in the world by Outside magazine, due to the later parts of the hike on cliffs above the ocean with NO vegetation to grab, as well as rivers that flash flood and have drowned people. Glad we turned back. I knew the cliffs were scary, but figured I’d get through them somehow or other.
Returning from travel in Asia and Europe when in my 20s, I thought about the country I wanted to get to know south of the border. So I planned a trip with my hardworking mom to see a bit of Mexico. After driving to Nogales, we took the train to Mazatlan. About 4 hours short of our destination, the train derailed in the northern Mexico desert. We had brought water, but had already consumed most of it. The train ran out of bottled agua de mineral, the only safe water available in those days. Warm coke was it, and there was a large group of thirsty passengers. We arrived, but hours late. On the way home I bought a few shrimp tamales from a train station vendor. They were SO good. And I was so sick, all the way back to the USA. Fastest weight loss of my life.
@1214mom and @onward That’s crazy! I do remember walking over to a really fancy hotel for a tea or brunch. My dad ended up getting down to the beach one morning and saw sea turtles, but one near death experience was enough for me.
That trail is well known. If it’s the killer one I am thinking of my s, wife and his inlaws did it too
And now my Montreal story.
We were young, pre-kids, and decided on the spur of the moment to use our 4-day Thanksgiving weekend to visit the city–H had been there several months earlier on a business trip, found it enchanting, and was eager to take me there and spend some tourist time. We thought it would be terribly romantic to take a sleeper for two on the Montrealer, the Amtrak overnight train. We had turkey dinner with friends, who then drove us to the station. Well, our prior experience with sleepers had been in Europe, and Amtrak was a far cry from the trains there. The constant rattles, squeaks, screeches and thuds as the train careened over the ancient roadbed kept us from sleeping a wink. At one point I got up to go to the bathroom just as the train came around a bend and got thrown sideways, smacking my forehead on the metal siderail of the upper bunk and nearly knocking myself out. We staggered to breakfast, only to find that the texture of the omelets matched that of the plastic rose on the table. The food made airline fare seem positively delicious.
So after a sleepless night, we arrived at our luxury hotel desperate for a nap in a comfortable room, only to be advised that the entire staff was on strike, and while we were welcome to carry our own bags and make our own bed, etc., we could be released from our reservation. Instead of falling into bed, we sat in the lobby calling around the city to find alternative accommodations.
After finally napping, we set off on our adventures, only to realize that Montreal in November is absolutely frigid, a good 30 degrees colder than home, and we were equipped for just-staring-to-get-cold conditions at home, not for don’t-expose-you’re-skin-or-you’ll-get-frostbite conditions. So we basically ran from one indoor spot to another, never walking outside for more than a block at a time, teeth chattering.
We dreaded the idea of taking the overnight train home on Sunday, but couldn’t get a flight. While we were sure we wouldn’t be able to sleep, we asked the kindly car attendant to be sure and wake us at 6 am so we could be packed and dressed by our 6:30 arrival. And while that seemed to encompass his entire job, we nonetheless woke up to the sound of our station being announced, threw our coats on over our nightclothes and fled.
I have no idea why I didn’t remember this earlier, but I actually have had a rather hellish trip.
When I was 17, I planned a trip to see two of my close friends who lived out of state during my winter break. It wouldn’t be my first time away from my parents, but it was my first trip like that on my own. I took Amtrak up from the DC area to Connecticut and planned to go up to Boston to see the second friend on Amtrak from there.
My friend and her parents picked me up from the station and drove us to their home, where I was… A little bit shocked. I don’t mean to sound snobbish, and I know CT is a very high cost area, but their home was just… Unexpected. It was off of a main road and was very small and run-down. The bathrooms especially were just kind of horrendous. The beginning of the night went fine, but when we went to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I felt nauseous and laid awake for hours. We were going to NYC the next day, so I knew I’d have to wake up around 6:30 to get ready and get to the train, but it was probably past 5:00 AM that I finally got a bit of sleep, but I was very upset by then. When I woke up the next morning, I showered in the horror movie bathroom and did my hair and makeup, and then it was time for breakfast. I was expecting something more ‘normal’ (yes, I know that ‘normal’ is relative), but instead her mom was serving a breakfast curry, for lack of the proper name. Normally I would have no problem with it, but the smell was strong and I felt even more nauseous. I went to call my mom, waking her up since it was pretty early, and started to cry because I was tired and nauseous and miserable. I just really wanted to go home.
My friend’s parents were very accommodating and, although there was a bit of a language barrier, tried to make me feel at home. We ended up going to NYC and I was tired and still miserable and a little nauseous. I realized that it was just anxiety and lack of sleep that was making me feel that way, but that was little comfort to me. I made it through the day and felt fairly normal after gaining pretty much all of my calories through bagels and mochas.
I texted the other friend and explained some of the situation and luckily, something had came up with her family that would’ve made my trip to see her a bit hectic, although still possible. My mom, which I am eternally thankful for, spent an extra hundred dollars to get me on a train home the next day rather than going up to Boston. The train was late by almost 2 hours, but I got a seat next to another teenage girl who was very nice, and I made it home.
Within half an hour of being home, my nausea subsided.
You just rattled my brain to remember a bad trip that I found frightening/interesting.
I was about 27 and flew from Oregon to Grand Junction, CO. to visit a friend. She had made a reservation for a night or two at a “camp” i.e. rustic place that centered around a hot springs. Off we went in the winter in her old two wheel drive car. Now the fact was that I knew this GF had no common sense at all. A few years before I visited her and she mentioned that the dining room was dark. I asked her why she did not put a new lightbulb in and she said it had never occurred to her. I am Miss Survivor and Can Figure Anything Out person. Her naivete about so many things amazed me
So off we go in the dead of winter in Eastern Colorado in an old car and she pulls off onto a road that clearly!!! was not the road we wanted. Got stuck, getting dark, walking down a mountain road, dark dark dark. Have no idea where we are trying to get to–maybe a little town 10 miles back? It was quite beautiful with so many stars. I figured as long as we kept walking we would not freeze.
Finally a pickup truck with two guys come along. They gave us a ride to the town and delivered us to a man and woman who could pull our car out. While in the truck my GF was nasty. She is Gay and was not able to be friendly to males. I was upset with her as they were being perfect gentlemen and really? I did talk to her about it latter. I never felt afraid of the them and were perfectly nice.
We went into this couples home and used their bathroom–the tub was filled with dirty kitty litter and there were cats everywhere. Still, they pulled us out around midnight and we found the road to our cabin. Icky place, cold as we could never figure out how to get the woodburning stove going even after a neighbor tried to help us.
One of strangest memeories of my life is walking down a Colorado Highway late at night with all of the stars shining and really not being afraid but wondering what was going to happen
Then I took one more trip with her that went bad in the same way and then never again.
We had one vacation that wasn’t exactly the vacation from hell, but it certainly was the most MALODOROUS vacation.
Our family went to visit my aunt & uncle in Germany around Easter time. Because they have a small place, they rented a guestroom for us, in a farmhouse down the path—accommodations they habitually rented for their visitors. Well, farm buildings in Germany are not arranged the same way they are in the States. In the US, the barn is not connected to the farmhouse. It is in Germany. And the farmer kept a small herd of milk cows in their barn.
The guestroom was fine on the cold day we arrived, but the following day the temperature warmed up considerably. Our upstairs guestroom shared the wall with the adjacent barn, and the DECADES of cow urine & manure had wicked up the porous plaster wall. The smell and fumes in our room were literally EYE-WATERING!!! We could hardly breathe.
So we escaped the room to take a road trip to Munich. We piled into the car and shut the car doors, and then… sniff sniff…sniff sniff… sniff sniff… All of us reeked of cow waste! We drove to Munich with the windows down to try to blow away the stench.
When we returned to the guesthouse that evening, it was still reeking. We grit our teeth and stayed the night.
The next morning we could bear it no more and sheepishly told my generous aunt & uncle about the situation and brought them there to experience it. They were horrified. For many, many years they had put their guests up in the farmhouse, and we were the first ones to say something about it.